


The Poetry Behind Them

by insomnislack



Category: Transformers: Prime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 19:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomnislack/pseuds/insomnislack
Summary: The thoughts and reasons for a mech to be the way they are, if unexplored, can make for a miserable reputation. Here we take a look into the processors and pasts of mechs who are not all that they seem and are not all that they make themselves out to be. (Reposted from my Quotev.)





	1. Starscream's Lament

Acknowledged, respected, and feared. These were all things that Starscream was not and it infuriated him.

Day in and day out he watched as Megatron, tall and scarred, force and intelligence, went about his day. He watched the way Megatron's presence alone was enough to make mechs quake and the Autobot's flee. 

He, too, wished to have that ability.

His own endeavors into becoming a more formidable foe always ended in his fall. If he did not get a beating from the one he envied then he'd beat himself up, there was no doubt. He couldn't find it in his spark to accept that he just wasn't made of such stern things. Starscream was not made to rule, was not made to fight, and was not made to last. He was the product of a poorly nurtured generation- A runt. But this fate would never suffice, Starscream would never take anything less than the Decepticon crown and Optimus Prime's head (Which he only needed to assert himself). Even in his fantasies he was trying to prove himself, again and again, always trying to make others see that he could be more than a seeker.

He could be a gladiator if he wished it. He could make his enemies cower. He was no less of a mech than Megatron!

But, as Primus had it, the only reason the Autobots retreated was not his strength but his wit. His wit served him well, despite missteps, but it was not brute force. It was not the gashes in armor, the pools of energon, the torn limbs... It was wit, just that.

Starscream tried to use it to his advantage, but his dreams were much too big for such a little mech. He could lie to anyone, but could he fend them off after the fact?

Perhaps this was the reason he was filled with a constant rage, sorrow- The reason that Starscream was known as a brooder and a traitor and hardly anything more?

When his flight was taken, his position terminated, and his spark nearly snuffed he realized it- He'd gotten himself into this mess with ambition and he was only going to get out of it with sense. He had to note the irony that the very thing that he was trying to escape- The thing he was trying to conquer and become more than- this wit- Was the thing that would save him.

Note he did.

As Starscream looked at an Earth sky, billions of stars snuffing out and dying before his eyes, he had to remember that he, too, was a star.

And he, too, would like to leave the world- any world- in such a beautiful way as these stars did- glorious and with force, etched into history.


	2. Megatronus the Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transformation is an art.

He who stood out among his brothers when they were all equally covered in soot. He who had words and songs when others had a routine and oppression. He who had spark and emotions while the others had indifference...

He who was named Megatronus.

Born without a name and without a future he rose to be greater than the mechs he was surrounded by.

Given a meaningless number and sent out about the masses, thrown into the bowels of the planet and forced to be small and powerless- He became the most dangerous.

It is the most hurt and wronged beings that become the end of the line- The last straw- The change.

It was he who spoke about injustice and potential. It was he who brought the poor, weak Kaonians up by the servo and raised them from their knees so that they might walk in the direction of free will.

He had not set out to be this mech, he did not wish to become some revolutionary, but what he failed to realize was that he hardly had a choice.

Once you speak of oppression and change...you open others' optics to the shackles on their pedes and the aching in their servos.

Victorious, brave, and strong he climbed from a lowly miner to a fighter and then to a poet- Painting pictures with the sound of his voice and conducting music with the wave of his servos. He was not a brute like some made him out to be.

Megatronus was an artist.

An artist with dreams of a planet that was united by their differences and not separated because of them, an artist that wished for happiness-

...An artist turned dark and feared when his reality was shaken and his brothers' faces turned into the nightmares he saw in the shadows of the mines.

Orion Pax's own face morphed into a sadistic grin with glowing red optics and an air of triumph.

Art turned to chaos and words turned into fists while brothers turned into enemies and love turned into hate.

He who stood out among his soldiers when they were all equally covered in spilled energon. He who had swords and power when the others had wounds and fatigue. He who had a personal grudge and hatred while the others had only direction.

He who was named Megatron.


	3. Optimus Prime the Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One man's victory is, in itself, a loss.

To say he was a mech that lived in the past was a severe understatement. Optimus did not only live in the past- He relived it day after day. Seeing an enemy in a brother's optics and staining his servos with energon of the soldiers who only did what they thought was best-- Optimus may have been a Prime, but he still felt like Orion the archivist. He still grieved every death and loss, still couldn't find happiness in a victory won by defeat, and still couldn't offline his optics without seeing his horrible deeds. To his team he may have been a hero...but to himself he was a criminal.

What Optimus did was carry out the will of the creator, Primus. It was what Primus would do if he were in the form of metal and energon- But that was different. Primus was a being capable of things Optimus could only dream of. He was free of the burden that Optimus carried.

To say that Primus was not kind or compassionate would not be Optimus' wish. Those would be words spoken by the unmaker. No, Primus simply lacked the burden of humanity. It was a hard concept for most to grasp, but those who had gone to Earth understood it well, especially those under Optimus Prime's wise tutelage.

Every being had a chance for redemption, even his greatest foe. He wanted to see those mechs and femmes become better and lead better lives- Not destroy them for ignoring Primus' will.

To say that he relived the past was an understatement- He was the past.

Optimus Prime lived, vented, dreamed those horrible things. Optimus Prime was a mech made up of his own morals and another's will. 

Optimus Prime may have been a prime, but he still felt like Orion the archivist. 

He still grieved every death and loss, still couldn't find happiness in a victory won by defeat, and still couldn't see his own reflection without wondering what the difference between he and his foes would be.

They were all criminals to someone.


End file.
